Best Annie Poems
My grandma was a steeple jack,
Of heights she had no fear.
The crowds would gather round to watch.
They came from far and near,
To see her swing and pirouette,
Doff her hat and wave.
And gasped and cheered each time she feigned
A slip and then a save.
Roof-toppers winced and bit their lips,
Tight rope walkers screamed.
Treetop loggers looked away
At the daring they were seeing.
Women gasped and children shrieked,
Fearful she would fall,
But at full ascent a massive roar
As she stood upon the ball!
She blew a kiss to the those below
As she turned around with ease,
Then there atop removed her scarf
And cast it to the breeze
But the crowd went wild as before their eyes
They viewed her final feat…
Into a handstand Grandma rose,
Then she waved and kicked her feet!
Whether flag pole, steeple, TV tower…
My grandma climbed them all.
For the freedom felt there in the clouds,
She was at their beck and call.
That grand old gal inspired me
Her legacy I've retraced.
Now I too dance upon a pole
At a club called Mary’s Place.
Orphan Annie
Visits everyday
Her big green eyes sharp, inquisitive
Looking for love, slinky and sultry
Spends hours
With me
Sharp claws.
Has pads,
Walks silently
Almost like a tight rope walker
Our Annie meows and meows, cute
Then cuddly
Resting head
On lap.
Bird appears,
Annie restless
Disappears to back of oak tree,
Comes back licking paws, bird gone
Annie’s tummy
Go Home
Babies’ waiting
ENTERING COMPETITION ; 'TRINET'
SPONSORED BY JOSEPH MAY
14/01/2021
A mystery, you, a child of our times,
you write of love and loss with equal flair,
flitting through rhythms and flirting with rhymes,
even your free verse is lighter than air.
Tiptoeing lightly while sharing your muse,
scattering adverbs to brighten my day,
likely as not you will bring me good news,
sprinkling nouns in your own special way.
The moon will arise, the sun fall asleep,
the world will keep spinning, as is her due,
and you shall lie content in slumber deep,
your burdens put away, your worries few.
Awake refreshed with a song in your heart,
ready and able to practice your art.
*******
Dedicated to a onetime Souper, Annie Brittle
Sank that Annie Laurie, down beneath those waves,
Took with her such fine young crew and not a life she saves.
Left there on the mountain,
Just the wives, the gals, the slaves.
Ne'er hunt nor e'er sing shall these lads so lost,
To mountain folk only known that which had been cost.
Banjos ne'er plucked agin,
Danced their last these kin.
Guitar now does stand forlorn,
Futures so then thusly shorn.
Sank that Annie Laurie, down beneath those waves,
Took with her those mountain folk to coldest watery graves.
SeaWolf
©
Grandma Annie was a sweet old lady
who would belt down a few
from her brew
Whenever I visited Grandma Annie
she always cooked up a new stew.
She loved her groundbeef
and would taste of the meat,
and all I could say was, "wholly"
I'll pass, grandma Annie,
when she offered me some,
I'm not eating nobody's raw meat
You have to test your meat
to make sure it's fresh
is what she would say to me
I would lift thy one eye
seeing brew in her eyes
and say your meat smells Just fine to me!!!
Many a nights with Grandma Annie
along with five more of her heirs
we had so much fun and love at her house
and was always very well cared!!!
"I miss u Grandma Annie Scott"
...for Annie Brittle
A mystery, you, a child of our times,
you write of love and loss with equal flair,
flitting through rhythms and flirting with rhymes,
even your blank verse is lighter than air.
Tiptoeing lightly while sharing your muse,
scattering adverbs to brighten the day,
likely as not you will bring us good news,
sprinkling nouns in your own special way.
The moon will arise, the sun fall asleep,
the world will keep spinning, as is her due,
and you shall lie content in slumber deep,
your burdens put away, your worries few.
Awake refreshed with a smile on you face,
as we delight in your lasting good grace.
If I was part machine, a steampunk woman, or a steampunk dog, or a steampunk cat,
I would choose to have a machine heart, so I could be less soft.
So my feelings would not get hurt so easily, so I could
Stop crying inside when people get mean and mad,
Or a tsunami kills a bunch of innocents.
I would also choose machine eyes – big round soft brown ones,
Because of the floaties I have in my older green and hazel eyes.
Floaties could not get into steampunk eyes, right?
I would choose bendable, new steampunk machine knees.
They would jump and summersault and do cartwheels and
Other stuff I can no longer do after tearing my ACL and
Meniscus which never got fixed, because it happened
At work and Workman’s Comp told me at my age,
Surgery would not be smart.
They would call me Steampunk Annie, and I would
Run up and down alleys, saving people from the robbers,
And the drug pushers, and I would kick the drug pushers
In their petootsies and make them cry
Because they would not have steampunk eyes
Or anything. I would rock the Steampunk
World with sass and vim, and be
The super hero I know I can be!
We would go to the forgotten towns of west Texas
Places that we couldn’t name and hunt for their souls
Sometime it was on the roadside a place they had been abandoned
Sometimes in and old house broken and forgotten
She’d stand there in her boots and ragged old skirt and start to sing
A lonesome strain of an old cowboy song
And they would come to her and as they did we would lay them down beside her
Put them to rest one final time.
Jack would play the fiddle and me the tambourine
Scrappy would join in on the guitar and we’d work the place until we had all those lost spirits
Standing in the corners or sitting in the shadows
They came to us waiting for a final place to rest.
Some where girls an others young caballeros
Who’d lost their way in a crash to their final destination
She’d sing “My Rifle, My Pony and Me” and they would enter her soul
Annie would take as many as she could and then we would have to leave
She would collapse on the ground and we would carry her to the car
And drive far into the desert close to the borderline
We would start a fire and begin to sing and play once again
And the spirits would leave her one by one some painfully some like flowing water
Then we would head to the nearest town and buy some tequila
and drink until dawn…
We did this for years until Annie couldn’t stand it any longer
One day she said she lost her taste for the dead and she never sang again
I can still hear her voice down by the river
Flowing across the rocks and down along the bottoms
And I wonder where she ended up for I lost her in El Paso
Never once she said and twice would be forever….
So now I sing those songs hoping to remember that lonesome sound
That woke the dead and brought them to our souls
Sometimes it seems like yesterday but I know it is a lifetime from this place
Annie, our Golden, is a member of the family
Just like a daughter, it's really uncanny
After going out upon our return
Our love's enthusiastically reaffirmed
Her excitement explodes, our dearest sweet Annie
© Jack Ellison 2015
a little girl with braids a-flyin
a stick pony without a head
righting the wrongs of childhood
when others don't play along
I rope my brother, tie him down
make him the bad guy, make him frown
he's not that happy, playin my game
Annie Oakley, runs away
before he can tell mom
I grew up, put Annie aside
forgot about her for a very long time
now that I go to the range and shoot
Annie has returned
once again to right the wrongs
Annie has returned
How can i refuse
When I'm crazy on you
I have no other love
I tell it like it's true
When I'm alone
These dreams i have for you
You keep my love alive
Save my heart from turning blue
My tall dark handsome stranger
My magic man
Will you be there in the morning
Take you back to Avalon
On the mistral wind
This little queen and you
I'll be your bright light girl
Who loves you through and through
To dream of the archer
Private audition, i will give
This man is mine
Who'll make my heart relive
All i wanna do is make love to you
It's the desire of the woman in me
No longer strangers of the heart
These dreams, make me
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music.php
"Mommie iis gone" Annie a darling (lil) angl of a small {but} virbrant one, who is sad-
den by the lost of her...(Mother) Here at the funereal..{Annie} could hardly describe
what the emptines of how she's going to make it without the comm--mmfforrttt of a motherly love, (Which)"Is Apply by the Will Of A....{Saviour}which is...{whom}iss..ssss.{JesusChrist.."the....Saviour of tthhhhe-eee{Whorld}. Poetic Love ...(Cries) forrr--rr Annie.."Is to always (T)rust the truth and the light... when darkness apppears in your...{Life}. Yonderss.s (H)e has come from the farhills(ss) high above (G)Gods Heaventll-yy Hills--sss...F(farraway)away be(Y)ond the stars(sss)...(A)bove..!!! "Anniee..in moments of sorrow...(t)Think...(A)Aaallwayss...Of..."" "PP{P}petic...Poetic Love....{Cries for Annie}..!!"
On a raft in the river tied to a tree, lived in an old woman of whom most folks made fun. She didn't talk much, most thought she was dumb. Kids being curious, and the summer being hot, the cool of the river drew our disobedient lot. We kids soon discovered the crude raft and the tent. We oddly made friends with its strange occupant. Tried as we might to find out her name. All we got was a smile from the toothless old dame. One thing for certain we kids soon found out. Social graces she lacked, but her kindness made up for that fact. Times being tough and money being tight, often we kids confided our plight. She didn't care if we were dirty or poor. She loved her little friends all the more. We didn't mind her fashion was lack. She wore a dress made from and old "tater sack." What troubled us was she didn't have a name. We didn't care from where she came. One day as we sat on the bank, a thought came to mind. We were disgusted with folks being unkind. "Everybody's got a name," said one. "Let's call her 'Tater Sack Annie'", said another, so it was done. Annie smiled at us. She liked her new name. She didn't say much, just smiled again. She motioned for us kids to her camp for lunch. She always fed our whole bunch. Fried taters, catfish and greens. All of us believed she was a woman of means. Several summers went by. One year the fall came. A saturday night, folks out for a lark. Didn't see Annie walking home in the dark. Somebody sent, and a somber Sherriff came, "Anybody her know her name?" He spoke to the group. Two boys stepped forward, both knelt to a stoop. "That's our 'Tater Sack Annie'", they spoke in a low tone. Both their faces ashen and as white as bone. Today in a churchyard no monument gleams. Only a simple stone reads, "Annie a lady of means."
Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch
A bucking mare that was named Annie
Liked kicking at each nook and cranny.
Since Young William was brave
He then mounted this nave,
Annie's hoof was found stuck in his fanny!
T’was quite uncanny
How cute little Annie
Got the gig as the nanny
To care for young Danny
Whose daddy was Giovanni
All while pleasing the live-in granny
T’was cute little Annie
who introduced them to samosas Pakistani
The tasty kind that no matter how many
Don’t add one ounce to your teeny fanny
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on February 2, 2018 for contest EARLY FEB 2018 PREMIERE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND